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Kyle knew it was going to be a crappy day when he slept through his alarm and was almost late for school. He had rushed around with his morning routine, taking his insulin shot and grabbing his backpack, and had dashed out the front door in time to board the bus.
It wasn't until he had made it to school did he realize that he had forgot both his packed lunch and his wallet. Which, most of the time wouldn't be a big issue. All he had to do was ask Stan to bring him home while they were on lunch so he could grab his stuff.
Stan, unfortunately, had to go to a meeting with the football coach, along with the rest of the team, and it left him in the cafeteria with a small group of classmates that either didn't have a license or weren't willing to bring him home on their only break of the day.
Kyle tried to pass the time by working on some homework, but it was hopeless to try to focus on the swirling text. His head hurt like hell and he knew it was only going to get worse by the time he got home.
It was going to end up being a stay in bed sort of afternoon.
A tray clattered against the tabletop and Craig sat down opposite him, raising an eyebrow at the open textbook and scribbled homework. “Seriously?”
Kyle scowled down at the book. “Problem?”
Craig sneered. “I knew you were a nerd, Broflovski, but this is a bit much to skip eating to work on tonight's assignment.”
The redhead sighed, tapping the pencil on the papers. “Not skipping willingly, I forgot my lunch at home.”
“So go buy one.”
“I would,” he started lowly, “But I also forgot my wallet.”
Craig snorted.
“I had a bad start to today, okay? I just—ugh!” He dropped the pencil and rubbed at his temples. “Fuck this day.”
“Dude, you can make it another couple hours, right? What's the big deal? I've seen Kenny and Stan skip lunches before.”
“Yeah, Kenny and Stan aren't diabetic,” Kyle snapped.
Craig stopped, hazel eyes sliding across to him. “You're diabetic,” he said, not questioned.
Kyle picked up his pencil and tried to continue his assignment. “It's fine; you're right. I'm just being a baby. I can handle a couple more hours.”
But could he? He took an insulin shot this morning but he had missed breakfast.
Probably why he felt like shit.
Craig continued to stare, so Kyle ignored him.
Until the lanky teen stood up, and walked away from his tray.
Kyle stared at the empty spot in confusion, but shrugged it off as Craig being a fucking weirdo.
He rubbed at his forehead, the headache intensifying. He felt sick, and weird. It's been a long time since he felt like this, and he knew it was his sugar tanking.
A peanut butter and jelly sandwich wrapped in plastic wrap dropped on his textbook and he jumped, and felt his eyes slide to the hand that set down a carton of orange juice with a paper wrapped straw.
He looked up and hazel eyes stared back passively.
“What's this?” He asked.
“What does it look like?” Craig sat down, and started to unwrap his own sandwich. “Lunch, dumb ass. Can't have you passing out in English lit. Who's homework am I gonna copy?”
Kyle hesitated, picking up the offering. “Thanks? What do I owe you?”
Craig shrugged. “Don't worry about it. Consider it payment for letting me copy your homework.”
Kyle wasn't going to argue.
A month later was a class trip to the Denver Museum of Nature and Science, and he was fucking ecstatic. The planetarium had opened a new exhibit on Black Holes and they were going to be premiering it the same day of the field trip.
It would be an all day venture, the class split up into pairs where each pair could explore to their hearts content. Lunch would be at 12:30 pm for an hour, and the last half of the day would be exploring any exhibits they missed that morning before they would set off back for school at five.
Kyle was standing next to Stan, chatting with him and looking over the map of the various floors and their exhibits.
“Dude,” Stan pointed. “the second floor has most of the animal exhibits. I wanna check out the sea mammals.”
Kyle grinned. “I'm stoked about the new black hole exhibit at the planetarium. I hope the tickets are cheap enough.”
“Dude, of all the things to wanna see, it's the one thing that you'd have to pay extra for,” Stan shook his head, smiling back. “But hey, if you wanna check it out, I'm game!”
Kyle was about to continue when the teacher came forward. “All right, due to previous incidents,” his eyes slid over to Kenny and Cartman, who were snickering off to the side. “I am assigning pairs.”
A wave of disgruntled murmurs and outcries came from the class, and Stan and Kyle exchanged glances.
“Stan, you're with Clyde. Cartman, you're with Wendy.”
“What?!”
“Oh fuck.”
“Kyle, you're with Craig.”
Green eyes searched the students to see hazel eyes staring back listlessly.
This...this was unfair.
Kyle watched as the teens split up into their assigned groups, and waited for Craig to approach.
The tall teen casually walked over, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, backpack slung over one shoulder. “Ready?”
The redhead sighed. “Yeah, I guess.” He held out the map. “Where shall we start?”
“Doesn't matter to me,” the other replied. “Pick an exhibit, or we can go floor by floor.”
“Floor by floor is fine,” Kyle replied. “Can we—can we make a quick pit stop on the way through?”
Craig smirked. “Gotta piss already? Damn, we just got here.”
Kyle glared. “No, I want to stop at the planetarium and see when the showing for the black hole exhibit is, and how much tickets are.”
Hazel eyes suddenly came to life. “Black hole exhibit?”
He flipped over the map to point out the event description and Craig made a noise of approval. “Hell yeah, let's go.”
They wove their way through the see of teenagers, scooting through the asteroid and space odyssey exhibits and got to the ticket booth.
The first showing time was at ten, with shows lasting an hour and some change.
Tickets being four dollars sealed the deal.
Kyle swung off his own backpack, dropping it on a nearby bench and dug through for his wallet. He pulled it out, opening it up to pull out the required bills--
--to find it empty aside from a small slip of paper.
He pulled it out and read over it carefully.
'Sorry bro, needed it for a new game. Pay you back at next allowance! :) - Ike'
Kyle's heart sunk. “You know what, I'm gonna have to pass.”
Craig, who had been observing the show times chart, turned to face him. “What? Why?”
Kyle held up the empty wallet and note. “I will have to kill my brother.”
Craig took the slip of paper and skimmed it, corners of his lips curling up in a smirk. “Dude.”
“Just--” He hung his head. “That fucker, he knew I wanted to see this! I told him, he fucking knew--”
A hand reached out and held his shoulder, giving him pause in his rant to the shocking sensation of someone other than his close friends touching him. “Relax, I'll pay for your ticket. It's only four bucks.”
Kyle's eyes widened. “I can't have you do that.”
“Dude, it's only four bucks. Besides,” the hand removed itself but the spot still burned through the fabric. “When are we gonna have the chance to check this out again? It's not like we can freely drive to Denver and see this, so shut up and let me do this.” Craig approached the ticket window, leaving Kyle behind to argue with himself.
When he came back, he was holding two tickets for a morning showing. He held one out to Kyle, who reached out and took it meekly. “Thanks,” he quietly said.
Craig shrugged, pocketing his ticket in his pants. “So, exhibits?”
They decided to forgo the first floor and head directly to the second floor, passing through the various animal displays and reading all the informational placards as they wandered through. Kyle happened to spy Clyde dragging a reluctant Stan around, and internally winced at the spectacle.
They were getting ready to head back down to the first floor using the stairs when it hit like a freight train.
It started with the shaking, hands trembling like Tweek after too many cups of coffee. Then the waves, hot sweat and cold sweat and hot sweat—the dizziness.
He had no idea he had collapsed until he felt hands holding his face up. “Kyle? Dude, Kyle, open your eyes! Are you okay?”
Kyle felt his head loll lazily back and thunk against the wall behind him. “What happened?”
Craig's eyes were wide and filled with concern, an expression so foreign on his normally impassive face. “I think you blacked out? You were in front of me and fell forwards, I caught you and you were out. What happened?”
The redhead blinked. “My sugar...?”
“Fuck,” Craig was kneeling in front of him and bouncing with nervous energy. “What do you need from me?”
Kyle motioned for his backpack, and Craig grabbed it. “Big zipper, my meter—little black bag. Take that out. I need the pen, a strip, and the meter itself.”
Craig fumbled with the zipper, yanking it open. He pulled out the small black bag, opening it gently to lay out the contents. “This the pen?”
Kyle blinked at him, “Yeah, the strips are in that little bottle. Just need one. Turn on the meter, let it get going. Put the strip in with the arrow pointed away from you. Let me know when it says it's ready.”
Craig's attention was jumpy—it kept going from the meter to Kyle and back on repeat, until he waved the device. “It's ready.”
Kyle held out a finger. “Poke me.”
Craig's confusion was evident, until Kyle held out the pen. “Cover off, pull the back, let it click. Hold it to my finger, press the button. It's to get a sample.”
Craig took the pen, and Kyle saw his hands were shaking. “Relax, it's not hard.”
“That's not what's worrying me,” the dark haired teen snapped but did as instructed, taking a gentle hold of Kyle's hand before activating the pen to prick the finger. A small bubble of red formed, and Kyle instructed Craig to hold the strip to the blood, and the teen made a noise of awe as it absorbed a small sample, meter beeping as it counted down.
Craig totally ignored the meter in favor of watching Kyle's face.
An alarm sounded and Craig jumped, and had it not been a serious situation and him feeling so shitty, Kyle would've laughed. “What's the number mean?”
He held it up and Kyle stared at the screen. “That means it's too fucking low for me to be kosher. In my bag is a tube that looks like a LifeSavers pack. I need that.”
Craig dug in the bag with anew vigor, producing said pack.
Kyle took it, popped out four, and started chomping. Craig stared.
“Now what?”
Kyle chewed, swallowing the first two grounded tablets. “I gotta check it again in fifteen minutes. If it's still low, I got a problem. If it's back to normal, we go on.”
Craig looked unconvinced. “That's it? Seriously?”
Kyle shrugged. “Not the first time this has happened, and won't be the last. Insulin and blood sugar and all that are fickle creatures. Mom has the same problem. It runs in the family.”
Craig fidgeted, gathering up Kyle items and putting them back in their proper spots. He stood, then held out his hands. “Here, let me at least move you to a bench of something.”
He held out his hands and Craig grabbed hold.
It was electric, a jolt running through his systems. It shot up his arms, through his shoulders and across his chest. It was charged, it was exhilarating, it was intoxicating.
It was over when Craig eased him onto the cushioned bench, then dropped down beside him.
He looked haggard.
Kyle let a smirk appear. “Why do you look like you ran a marathon?”
Craig leveled a glare. “Oh, you know. It's really fucking terrifying having the person in front of you stop moving all of the sudden, then drop forwards without so much as a sound. I thought we were gonna fall off the fucking stairs.” He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up. “I honestly don't know how the fuck I was able to get you down without falling.”
“You drag me down?”
Craig flushed. “No, but I should've. I had to somehow turn you, then pull you up into my arms. It was, at best, a half-assed bridal carry.”
Kyle felt his face gaining warmth, which was a good sign. Maybe. “Sorry for scaring you. I thought my sugar would be fine until lunch. I had a small breakfast with my insulin.”
Craig narrowed his eyes. “This didn't happen before...?”
“Not as quickly, new brand of insulin. Still trying to adjust,” Kyle sighed, checking the time on his phone. “It's all trial and error, and it sucks. I'm just gonna have to eat small snacks throughout the day, or something.”
“You have three minutes,” he looked away. “Do you need anything to eat?”
“I should be good thanks to those tablets. They give me the boost I need to get it normalized until lunch time.” He closed his eyes.
Something nudged his arm, and he opened his eyes tiredly to see a bottle of water held out. “Just in case,” Craig mumbled. “I know absolutely nothing about diabetes other what you've shown me. It's terrifying.”
Kyle smiled. “Millions of people go through it every day. It's just—it happens. Like a lot of other illnesses.”
Craig shrugged. “I guess.” He fiddled with Kyle's bag. “You ready to check it again?”
Kyle smirked. “Think you can do it without a walk through?”
Craig's eyes widened nervously.
The redhead laughed. “Just messing with you. I'll do it.”
“No,” Craig sat up, determination on his face. “I want to.”
It was like watching himself try to test from memory for the first time, Craig had discarded the old test strip and got out a fresh one. He prepped the meter, and while it was running got the pen ready.
He grabbed Kyle's other hand, holding it with a newfound gentleness. When the meter was ready, he activated the pen. Once he was satisfied he had enough blood, held the strip out and continued the test.
The countdown started, and Craig tended to putting away the tools while the meter worked.
It chirped when it finished, signaling normal levels.
“That's a good number right there,” Kyle explained, Craig attentive to the screen now. “Seventy to one-fifty is normal. Anything below is worrisome, so it's best to eat something or, if it's getting too low, to grab a tablet. Anything high can be a sign that I just ate, like if it's around two hundred or so, but if it's higher that means something's up.”
“It's crazy,” Craig started. “How we've come this far in understanding the human body, and still don't know so much.”
Kyle laughed. “Yeah, I mean—you're not wrong.”
Craig tossed out the strip and put the meter back, replacing everything back in Kyle's bag. He turned and looked over Kyle's face carefully. “You feeling better?”
He nodded. “Much better. I didn't even feel ill before that. Not a single sign that was gonna happen.”
Craig continued to scrutinize him, but then nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Well, if you're done playing Sleeping Beauty--”
“I didn't--”
“If you still want to see the Black Holes event, we have ten minutes before it starts. We can go in and get some good seats, and just chill for the rest of the morning until lunch.”
Kyle smiled. “I definitely still want to see it.”
Craig allowed a small curl of his lips. “Great, let's go.”
The show was amazing. Every few minutes, Craig would nudge him with his knee and Kyle would respond in kind.
At one point, Kyle had turned to see Craig watching him, hazel eyes lidded and focused on him.
He felt his chest constrict, and Craig looked away with a small smile.
He allowed a small smile of his own.
A week later, Kyle found himself in the library in the after school hours getting some studying done. His parents had friends over and he knew the house was going to be loud, and he had zero interest in getting sucked into their shenanigans.
So the library it was.
He had completed his math and chemistry homework and was halfway through his English reading when a familiar body dropped into the chair across from him.
Craig eyed the book. “Seriously?”
“Not free reading this, I assure you,” Kyle said, placing a strip of paper in the pages as a makeshift bookmark. “This book is boring as hell.”
“I never thought I'd live to hear you say a book was boring.” Craig looked pleased. “Nice.”
Kyle ignored him. “To what do I owe the pleasure of you gracing me with your presence?”
Craig leaned back in the chair. “Didn't want to go home. Tricia is having a sleep over and it's all girls. Not in the mood to get sucked into a makeover or get my hair done, or whatever.”
Kyle laughed. “Do they do that to you often?”
“Fuck no,” Craig sat up straight. “I hear them coming for my room and I climb out the window. I am not getting involved in that shit.”
“So instead of telling them to fuck off,” Kyle started.
“Dude, they're like, twelve,” Craig exclaimed.
“That never stopped you when you were ten,” Kyle crowed. “Me thinks you didn't want to hurt their feelings.”
Hazel eyes glared back at him. “How late do you plan on staying,” Craig tactfully ignored his disparaging comment. “Cause it's already past four.”
Kyle looked at the clock on the wall. “Oh shit, that late already?”
Craig rolled his eyes, reaching into his jacket pocket. “Figures you'd pull this shit again,” he pulled out a package and tossed at Kyle, who fumbled to catch it. “'It's dangerous to go alone. Take this.'”
Kyle smirked at him, “You fucking nerd.” He looked down and saw it was a pack of whole grain crackers with peanut butter. He stared at it. “How did you—did you buy this for me?”
Craig flushed, looking at a nearby bookcase. “Well, when you said you're sugar has been volatile since your medicine was switched up, I wanted to make sure you were covered. And I know for a fact it's been over four hours since you ate.” He pointed to the pack. “Eat one.”
Such a simple act shouldn't have elicited anything dramatic, but Kyle's stomach and heart decided otherwise. Butterflies took flight, creating a hurricane in his gut. His heart started to race it's own little marathon, leaving common sense in the dust.
Act normal, Kyle.
He opened the pack very carefully to avoid breaking the crackers, then started to nibble on one. “These are better than the one's mom picks up,” Kyle commented. “Thank you.”
Craig's face somehow got redder. He crossed his arms and buried his face in the fabric of his sweatshirt. “No problem.”
A few weeks later, the high school gym teacher decided that he had enough of everyone's bullshit and instead of the planned basketball game, he declared “You fuckers are running the mile.”
The boys gym class found themselves outside on the track, doing stretches to warm up for the marathon.
Kyle felt sick to his stomach. He was never good at marathon running. Basketball he enjoyed, and didn't always have to run. Lately, though, since his insulin change, basketball has taken a spot on the back burner. Instead of playing as one of the leads, he's demoted himself to being a fill in should someone get an injury during the game.
Which is depressing to say the least.
He's constantly exhausted. That's new, and that's the most frustrating of new symptoms. The weakness is also new, but it's one he can feign not having.
But the mile run—that's gonna kick his ass.
The gym teacher blew his whistle and the kids took off.
Cartman was already huffing and puffing, bitching up a mile a minute.
Kyle tried to keep up with the rest of the boys and found that his energy was nonexistent. His head was throbbing, the frequent headaches were getting ridiculous.
For a while he thought that that he may have needed glasses, which was the last fucking thing he needed with Cartman hanging around.
His jog slowed to a stop, and he bent over trying to catch his breath while he rested his hands on his knees. Cartman passed him with a sneer. He can't fucking breathe, he can't fucking walk, this is bullshit. He never used to be like this, why is it that at sixteen he feels ancient?
A figure came up alongside him and stood patiently. He glanced up to see Craig staring down at him, face neutral but eyes wide with concern.
“You all right, dude?”
Kyle shook his head. “I can't run this, I'm gonna fucking pass out.”
“Then don't.”
Kyle could hear the gym teacher yelling, but can't make out what he's saying. “Yeah, and get a shitty grade? I'll be fine if I take a minute. I'll walk this.” He doesn't want to walk it. He'll be seen as another Cartman in gym class.
“What are they gonna do if you pass out, fail you? You can't help what your medicine does,” Craig said. He crouched down and stared Kyle in the face.
Kyle slowed his panting and stared back at Craig's face, mouth open. “What?”
Craig shrugged. “Ready when you are.”
The redhead raised an eyebrow and Craig motioned for the track.
“I'll walk with you.”
Kyle felt his face flush. “You don't have to do that--”
“I know I don't have to, but there's a difference if I want to,” Craig said. He paused. “And I want to.”
The redhead hesitated. “You don't—I—okay.”
Craig's lips gentled into a soft, barely visible smile. If Kyle hadn't been watching for a reaction, he would've missed it.
When he finally rose and started walking, Craig matched his pace. He started rambling about his guinea pig (Stripe was it?), his favorite shows on television, to various topics about space.
They had made it to two laps before the gym teacher told them to go sit on the bleachers, having pity on Kyle when he apparently looked as pale as chalk.
Craig was sent on babysitting duties, and was told to keep an eye on Kyle and if something happened to get to the nurse immediately.
Cartman was not fucking thrilled at seeing the two of them hanging out on the bleachers, Craig smirking down at him from his throne.
Fortunately, Kyle felt better. And it had absolutely nothing to do with sitting next to Craig and talking about the planetarium exhibit from the field trip.
The following week found Kyle missing Craig's presence. The lanky teen got himself in a shit ton of trouble, and was in In School Suspension for the week.
Rumor was that Craig beat the shit out of Cartman cause the fat ass got mouthy. Over what, Kyle wasn't sure. No one really had a straight answer as the only witness to the fight was Wendy, who was absolutely adamant that Cartman deserved it.
He wanted to corner her and find out what had happened, but it really wasn't any of his business.
He stared forlornly at the empty desk that the tall teen usually sat at, and sighed. It was going to be one hell of a week. Who was going to keep him company in the library when his parents did Thursday night card games? Who was going to make gym class tolerable? Who was going to remind him to eat when he spaced out meals too much?
It was at lunch time when Wendy pulled him aside and into an empty classroom. “Craig asked me to give this to you when I saw you,” she held out her hands and that same brand of peanut butter and crackers laid in her hands innocently. “Said 'don't forget about your fucking sugar, you moron'.”
Kyle stared at the crackers and felt his heart in his throat.
This was fucking ridiculous. He wasn't going to cry over a pack of crackers, but it felt like they were separated by miles and decades instead of a damn brick wall.
Wendy took pity on him and tucked the cracker pack into his hands. “Keep an eye on your sugar, Kyle.” She patted his arm and walked away.
The next day was almost a replay, but this time Wendy didn't pull him into a secluded location. She just held out the crackers and cocked an eyebrow. “Message from Craig, yet again,” she waved them at Kyle. “'Watch your sugar'.”
Kyle flushed, accepting the crackers.
Wendy smirked. “You know, I don't wanna know.”
The third day was the same. Wendy cornered him, offering a message and the same crackers.
By the fourth day, her curiosity won over.
“Okay, is this a joke between you two?” She looked him over and he tried to hide in his jacket. “Every morning before he goes into the office, he gives me the crackers and tells me the same thing. What is up with that?”
Kyle shrugged. “I think I scared him on our field trip. My blood sugar crashed and I blacked out, almost fell down a flight of stairs. He saved me,” he let out a soft breath. “In more ways than one, actually.”
Her eyes softened. “Kyle, I didn't tell anyone this, but I'm going to tell you only because I think you deserve to know.”
He looked at her questioningly, and she leaned in close.
“He beat up Cartman because Cartman was calling you a fag.”
His eyebrows shot up to his hairline and he stared at her. “What?”
“Cartman corned Craig,” she started slowly. “Asked what was going on between you two. Craig said that you two were friends. Cartman said--” She hesitated. “He said that it looked more like that you were trying to—um--trying to get into his pants,” her face burned. “Craig told him that it's none of his business what you guys do, and to stop saying things like that about you.”
“Cartman then said a few derogatory comments about you, and when he called you a fag, Craig punched him in the face, repeatedly. The whole time he was yelling how does it feel to have a fag beat you up?” Her face twisted. “Kyle, I—I don't know what kind of relationship that you and Craig have, but he seems to genuinely care about you. If the crackers,” she waved the item in question, “mean anything. But I wanted you to know.”
Kyle stared at her. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because,” she sighed. “I thought—maybe he was just being weird? I don't know. But—lately, I've noticed something whenever he's in class.”
She looked down the empty hallway. “He always looks so sad when you aren't looking. When you do look back, he puts on a mask, pretending he wasn't watching you.” Her gaze flicked back to Kyle. “I wonder why?”
Kyle knew why, but telling her would be the same as confessing his own secrets.
Craig was back in class on Monday, and Kyle was torn. He was relieved to have his partner back, but he was also replaying his conversation with Wendy.
'He always looks so sad.'
He wasn't sure how to approach the subject with Craig, so he elected to not address it at all.
Lunch time, Craig sat down across from him. When he looked up, the tall teen smiled at him.
“I see Wendy did as I asked and kept an eye on you for me,” his smile stayed plastered on his face. “Stayed out of trouble, did you?”
Kyle snorted, peeling the orange. “Of course I did. Unlike someone I know.”
Craig actually blushed, eyes lowering and he stared at his tray. “Fucker deserved it. He's lucky that's all I did.”
Kyle already knew the story, but wanted to test some waters. “What did he do to you?”
The dark haired teen paused. “Cartman—was being Cartman, and I was having an off day,” he said slowly, carefully.
The redhead leaned in “Off day?”
Craig nodded, stabbing his potatoes with a fork. “He shouldn't be a nuisance for a while,” he hesitated. “A little while, at least.”
“But everything is okay now, right?” Kyle waved an orange wedge at the teen before popping it in his mouth.
Craig stared at his mouth before averting his gaze to his tray. “Yup.”
Kyle narrowed his eyes. The stiff posture and one worded answer told him all he needed to know.
He needed to plan.
It took some extra hard work around the house, but he convinced his mom to allow him to borrow the car Saturday to drive to Denver. After showing her the museum he planned to visit, she was all for it. She even gave him extra spending money for the day.
That was the easy part.
The hardest part was asking Craig Tucker to go to the Denver planetarium with him.
Come Thursday, Kyle was an absolute bundle of nerves. Granted the question was simple, it held a double meaning to it. The question would change everything between the two of them, and he was scared shitless of ruining it.
By lunch time, Craig was right up his ass poking him in the arm. “Dude, you look pale. Did you skip breakfast again?”
Kyle shook his head, stopping when he felt nauseous. “No, I uh—am just not feeling all that well.”
“Want me to check your sugar again?”
The redhead turned his head and Craig was staring back at him like nothing else in the world mattered.
Kyle opened his mouth, then closed it. “If you don't mind?”
Craig motioned for the empty classroom next to the cafeteria, and Kyle followed him in.
As the dark haired teen went through the motions of setting up the meter, Kyle couldn't help but start talking.
“I've been thinking about that planetarium,” he started. “The one back in Denver. That was so cool.”
Craig snorted, a small smile presenting itself on his face. “That was pretty awesome.”
“I—I never got to pay you back for it,” Kyle rambled. “I feel awful for taking your money and everything. And then to have me black out on you, that's a shitty field trip.”
Craig's smile disappeared, and a tense line appeared on his forehead. “You don't owe me anything,” he said softly. “I paid because I wanted you to go to the showing with me.” He held up the pen. “Which finger?”
Kyle extended out the finger to be poked, and Craig held it gently in his hands, triggering the needle.
As Craig continued the test, Kyle kept on talking. “So, since you won't let me pay you back, how about I return the favor?” Craig raised an eyebrow as he kept going. “This weekend, the Denver museum is holding another exhibit at the planetarium. This is a cosmic show, and it's going to be a tour of a bunch of different galaxies. I was wondering if you'd like to come see it with me.”
The meter chirped and Craig's gaze drifted down to the device. He discarded the test strip with a sigh. “I don't have a car,” his voice was quiet.
“I don't have a car either,” Kyle grinned. “But I do have my license and mom said I can drive over. So, you wanna go with me?”
Hazel eyes pierced him, their gaze was firm, unrelenting, and was peeling him apart.
He looked away. “What time?”
Kyle absolutely beamed.
Saturday morning found Kyle pulling up to the sidewalk where Craig was already waiting. He was dressed up in his usual dark jeans and blue hoodie, hands shoved into his pockets.
Goddamn was he handsome.
He climbed in as Kyle pulled away from the curb. “I can't believe you're getting me to leave my house on a Saturday.”
Kyle grinned. “I can't believe I'm getting you to leave your house on a Saturday for something nerdy,” he turned to the other teen. “You nerd.”
Craig laughed. “Did you eat?”
Kyle make an exasperated noise. “Why is that the first thing you ask me? Not, how are you? You excited about the exhibit? Yes, thanks, Craig. I'm great, Craig.”
Craig stared back at him calmly. “I ask because I care, and since you didn't answer me, we're stopping at the drive thru. I'm buying breakfast and don't--” he pointed a finger at Kyle threateningly. “--fucking argue with me.”
Kyle didn't argue.
Even though it was a cheap instant breakfast sandwich and a burnt cup of coffee, it was the best thing he ever had.
Kyle was glad he had the foresight to buy the tickets online. When they arrived at the museum, it was bustling with people.
Craig whistled. “Shall we wander around until the show starts? We have,” he checked the time on his phone. “An hour and a half to kill.”
Kyle shrugged. “Sure, let's see what's on the block.”
They headed down the street side by side, heading towards a shopping district.
Kyle looked down to where Craig had his hands shoved into his hoodie's pockets and internally sighed. If the lanky teen had his hands free, he was going to be bold and hold his hand.
No such luck if they're tucked away.
Kyle had so many thoughts racing through his head. How was he going to broach the topic with Craig? While Craig had matured with age, he also perfected the art of deflection. While some questions he'd answer with no hesitation, other—more personable—questions, he either changed the topic on or walked away from altogether.
He wanted to ask Craig out properly. He wanted to let Craig know that he had affections for him, but he wasn't confident in Wendy's observations. So what Craig developed an overprotective streak, watching over him like a guardian angel. They had developed a friendship that never truly existed prior to all these events.
He was afraid to ruin it.
“Earth to Kyle,” the teen in question broke him out of his reverie. “Are you still with me?”
Kyle blinked. “Huh?”
Craig's smile was small, shy almost. “Am I that bad of company that your thoughts are better conversation than me?”
Immediately, Kyle defended him. “Absolutely not! I—I'm just thinking over something that's been bothering me. I probably should pick a better time to try to solve it, huh?” He let out a soft laugh, and he knew it sounded forced.
A hand reached out and grabbed his arm, dragging him towards a street bench. “Well, let's figure it out then, huh? We have time.”
Well, fuck.
How do you tell the person who wants to help you with a problem that they are the problem?
Kyle stuttered. “No, that's—that's not necessary, that's um--”
Craig pushed him to sit, flopping down beside him. “Talk.”
Easy enough for him to say.
Kyle held his hands in his lap and just stared at them. Maybe if he was quiet enough, Craig would let it slide. Maybe if he lied and came up with something else Craig would lose interest. Maybe if--
'He always looks so sad.'
He took a deep breath, and squeezed his fingers tightly into fists. “Change is hard.”
A moment, and then Craig said, “Yeah, it is. But sometimes, change is required.”
“Yeah,” Kyle continued. “And sometimes, change is good. It's unexpected. It's like winning the lottery when you weren't even trying, or finding that collector's edition of a comic book you've been searching for.”
Craig remained silent, and Kyle pushed on.
“I've noticed a change in myself. One that if you'd ask me years ago I'd vehemently deny because I was a little shit like that. I just couldn't accept things for what they were, you know? I'd fight it.” He sighed, then looked up to concerned hazel eyes looking back at him. “I've accepted it though, and I'm very glad I did.”
“Let me ask this,” Craig shifted so he was facing Kyle head on. “Are you okay? Like, physically okay? You're not dying, are you?”
Time to bite the bullet. Kyle laughed, and this time it wasn't forced. “No, man. I've accepted the fact that I'm in love with you.”
There was a silence, and hazel eyes widened. Craig's mouth opened and closed repeatedly as he tried to find his words, and his face bright red.
“You--”
Kyle smiled.
Craig brought a hand up to his mouth, eyelids lowering and heat of his blush traveling down his neck. “You--” He gasped, head spinning back to face Kyle. “Is this a date?!”
Kyle brought out a giant grin this time. “You're more concerned about whether this is a date than the fact that I like you?”
Craig barely relaxed, hands on his knees and squeezing the life out of them. “Listen, this...this is,” he turned away, a broad smile overtaking his face. “This is amazing.”
“Amazing?”
Craig released his knees from his death grip and faced him once more. “I wasn't sure if you were messing with me or just—humoring me. The whole flirty touches and whatever. I didn't dare ask. I really wanted to,” he paused. “I didn't want to ruin what we had going. It's so new, you know?”
Kyle knew exactly what he meant, so wordlessly he reached out and took hold of Craig's hand.
Hazel eyes averted down to the hands, widening with awe.
“I like you, Craig,” Kyle repeated. “And I would be honored if you would go out with me.”
Craig stared at the hands quietly for a moment. He then squeezed them gently, eyes traveling up to Kyle's. “Kyle, I would the one honored.”
Kyle watched as he leaned in, pausing just as their lips touched. Boldly, he closed the distance.
The cosmic exhibit was amazing.
Especially when Craig lifted the arm divider and pulled Kyle in to cuddle with him, pressing kisses along his temple, squeezing his hand every time a new galaxy was featured, and--
--it was a really good showing.
Monday morning brought Kyle to his locker. He had just barely put the combo in, unlocking it as he dropped his backpack to the ground to file through his belongings.
When he opened the door, he paused, then smiled.
Sitting on top of his books, innocently, was a pack of whole grain crackers with peanut butter, with a single sticky note attached.
Kyle plucked the note off, and read it. He laughed.
'Watch your sugar babe, love Craig <3'